Meds
by Clavis Salomonis
Summary: "You're eyes look like a living nightmare." Claire Lamont had indented to complete her preliminary research without ruffling any feathers, but when a certain inmate starts to take an interest things begin to play out like a bad dream. Just what is Doctor Crane planning and why is he so obsessed with Claire's eyes? Crane/ScarecrowXOC
1. Meds: introduction

Introduction

"So, are you nervous about starting?" Daniels glanced at Paul as they walked down the white washed corridor.

"Yeah, bit excited too." He smiled sheepishly and Daniels chuckled.

"Most are. I was. You've just got to remember to keep your wits about you in Arkham or it will eat you alive." He stopped in front of a solid metal door and swiped his pass card. "We'll get your card sorted out later," he waved his pass absentmindedly and punched in a seven digit code into a keypad to the left of the door. "Your code will be personal to you and it changes depending on what area you are in."

Paul nodded, trying not to look daunted. There was a buzz as the door unlocked.

"Don't worry, you get used to it." Daniels grinned at him. "Most are pretty straightforward; the only hassle is the West Wing." He glanced at the younger man as they walked through the door and grinned again as his expression. "Yeah, in the West, you have to be with another guard, at least, at all times. You need two nine digit codes and two passes to get through most doors, plus a code and conformation from a guard on the other side of the door." Daniels pointed at the ceiling, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes. "CCTV is in full time operation too."

Paul nodded again.

"You're a quiet one." Daniels chuckled.

"Sorry."

"No worries, it's a lot to take in."

Paul chewed his bottom lip, trying to take everything on. He had expected the asylum to be dark but it was surprisingly bright and sterile, like a recently abandoned hospital.

Daniels radio suddenly crackled into life. "Sorry about this." The blonde haired man pulled the hand held walkie-talkie out from its holder in his belt. "A19-Daniels."

"J23-White." Daniels scowled and stopped walking. "We have a small prob-"

"It's twelve-oh-seven White, why aren't you transferring patient thirty five?"

Paul watched the other man's face carefully.

"Well, there was a-"

Daniels swore. "For God's sake White! At twelve-oh-five thrity five us transferred. At twelve-oh-twelve the transfer is complete. This never changes!"

"I know but-"

"I'm coming now," Daniel turned and matched back down the corridor, Paul almost had to run to keep up with him. "Get Doctor Mottram to the West on standby just in case. Over."

"Yes sir," there was a pause. "Over."

Daniels looked at Paul, "I'm really sorry about this, White is _completely_ incompetent," he held his radio to his mouth again and pressed three buttons on the device. As Paul looked at it he realised the radio had a mini key pad on the side.

"L14-Warren."

"A19-Daniels. Thirty five's transfer has been delayed; I need you at West entrance five."

The voice on the other end of the radio swore. "I'll be there in five. Over."

"Over." Daniels looked at Paul. "I know it's a bit soon, but if you're up for it, I'll show you the West Wing and sort this." He motioned to his radio with his left hand. "I mean you would be working primarily in that area and-"

Paul swallowed. "No, it's fine. I'm... interested."

Daniel laughed. "Well that's one way to describe the West Wing."

They walked in silence through two sets of doors until they came to the fifth west entrance. Warren stood by the door awkwardly; he was a young man with small grey eyes.

"What the hell is White playing at?" He punched in his key code with every syllable before Daniels and Paul had reached him.

"Usual White." Daniels grunted, putting in his own code. "This is Paul Rogers," Warren nodded at the younger man. "He'll be filling the west shift."

They hurried down the corridor, nodding briefly to the guard in a small office behind the entrance.

"Well, you'll be a breath of fresh air from White."

They walked through three sets of security entrances and Paul began to notice that there were less and less doors leading off to rooms and more and more guards and unlike the other parts of Arkham there were no patients outside of their rooms. Even though he had heard a lot about the maximum security wing and knew he should be on his guard something about the atmosphere buzzed and there was a nervous energy about the two men in front of him. For once, it seemed like the guards were not in control.

There were three guards standing outside of a room at the end of the hall, unlike the others this door had another key code pad to the left of it, similar to the security entrances, instead of just a pass slot.

"Daniels, I just-" Paul recognised the small man as the voice of White.

"You haven't explained the delay?" The blond haired man yelled.

"I-"

"For God's sake!" Paul stared at the new guards; all three were wearing what looked like sun glasses. He frowned. "Johnson, Horn" he held out his hand. "Glasses." Both men handed them over without delay. "Go and get the doors ready, I don't want any more delays."

They nodded and walked off quickly in an almost run.

"And you," Daniels snarled. "Glasses. And get back to East two."

"But-"

"Now."

White breathed out slowly but handed over his glasses and a small dark leather brief case he had been holding before storming off. Warren smirked and muttered something under his breath.

Daniels turned to Paul. "Put these on." He handed him the glasses. Paul looked at them for a moment, bemused, before placing them on his face. Warren, already wearing glasses punched in a code and swiped his pass. There was a buzz and a click as the door opened.

"And don't look her directly in the eyes."

As Paul entered he tried not to look at the pair of purple eyes that stared back at it. He really did try. The hypnotic violet seemed to bore into him, eating him alive and stabbing into his mind.

"I'm sorry we're late Miss Lamont." Daniels hurried in.

Paul froze as gentle whispering filled his head, unable to believe who sat before him.

"Nightmare." He breathed.

**Author's Note**

**This is just a short introduction chapter to get your interest, hopefully it has. The next chapter should be up soon (and a bit more full on!) Reviews are always appreciated, I live for them :)**


	2. I was alone

Chapter One: 'I was Alone'

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman (sadly)

This is set about four months after The Dark Knight.

**Author's Comments: I hope this chapter will live up to expectations, thank you so much for everyone who reviewed, faved and followed this story. I am in your debt. I'm sorry this chapter is so long and I hope the jumping back and forth in time isn't too confusing.**

**Also there is a slight Red Eye reference in this chapter, see if you can spot it.  
**

Six Months Earlier:

"You're late." Claire Lamont froze as the heavy metal door shut behind her. She quickly checked her watch, as small silver affair, 11:37am.

She glared at Daniels before smiling. "Shut up." He grinned back at her, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"I get you every time." Claire pulled a face. "I'll buzz you in."

"Thanks." She beamed and gave him a little wave as she hurried through the next security door. Daniels returned the gesture before sitting back in the small second floor reception office.

Claire broke into a half skip, half run as she hurried down he corridor. Her I.D. card swung back and forth around her neck, tangling with her bag strap, giving her the faintest feeling that she was suffocating. She glanced at her watch again as she turned the final corner. 11:42am – not bad.

Two guards Claire didn't recognize stood behind Doctor Quinzel at the West wings first entrance.

"Ms Lamont." Doctor Quinzel smiled at her in greeting, the emotion never echoing in her dark eyes.

"Doctor Quinzel." Claire breathed heavily and pulled her I.D. from where it had tangled around her bag strap, she shoved it into her jacket pocket. She could feel a thin layer of sweat on her forehead from her exertion and tried to wipe it away with the back of her hand, blushing slightly.

Doctor Quinzel observed her for a moment, a slight smirk on her face. "Well, shall we?" Claire nodded as the two guards entered their pass codes. There was a buzz and a small click as the door opened.

"Good morning Doctor Quinzel."

"Good morning." The Doctor gave a little nod to the guards on the other side of the door.

Claire smiled, a little embarrassed, before almost jogging to keep up with the Doctor. Harleen Quinzel was a tall woman normally, but her height reached an impressive and imposing altitude in her black heels. The click-er-clack of her shoes echoed down the corridor. Claire's plane, flat shoes were very masculine in comparison, the young woman had never been able to walk in heels. She stared, a little enviously at the older woman's slim frame and confident strides.

"How are you feeling about the presentation next week?" Doctor Quinzel glances at Claire before looking back at the papers in her hands.

"Nervous."

The Doctor laughed. "I would be too. I hate giving presentations… But you have nothing to worry about." Doctor Quinzel paused as they came to another door.

"Thank you." Claire fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of her grey skirt and smiled a little awkwardly.

The Doctor watched her with a vulture like stare. The door buzzed open.

"I also want to apologize to you for having to miss Professor Burnham's lecture," Doctor Quinzel picked up her fast pace once more. "I'm sure you were looking forward to it."

She glanced at Claire but gave her no time to reply. "Fortunately, he is a good friend of mine, so he has agreed to have a one on one meeting with you next Thursday." Claire's eyes widened. "It's all been arranged."

"Thank you." She stammered after a moment, a little shocked for words. Proffesor Burnham's research into the criminal psyche was legendary, just to have a second of the man's time was a dream come true.

"It's no problem." Doctor Quinzel waved her hand dismissively.

Claire blinked rapidly, not believing her own luck. She had been disappointed to miss the guest lecture, but she knew that missing her current appointment would have been far more _serious. _

A little shudder tiptoed down her spine, a cool sweat caressing her face.

"_You're late Claire." "I'm sorry I-" "You know we don't like to be kept waiting!"_

"I'm just thankful that you're always here on time."

_Not always. _

"And that you keep to the appointment slots, it must be irritating for you."

Claire shrugged. "It's fine."

Doctor Quinzel smiled. "Well, he always has been… unfavorable about changing time slots."

"_We've waited and waited and waited." "Please… don't-"_

"I want to thank you for your notes too." Doctor Quinzel broke Claire out of her thoughts. "They're very detailed." There was a pause. "I can understand his aggression to me after our… _history_. But the other psychiatrists…" They stopped as another door was opened. "Even the one's he didn't know." She signed.

"Pride?"

"It runs deeper than that." Claire nodded. "Anyway, I have enough to do now that the police department have finally stopped their 'little dispute' about our new patient."

Claire watched Doctor Quinzel carefully. "I mean it was completely ridiculous! The man is obviously delusional. I can't believe what Commissioner Gordon was playing at, it took nearly four months to get a mentally unstable man to be legally put in an institution where he could be helped!" Claire swallowed; Doctor Quinzel glanced at her.

"I'm sorry, I know you know the Commissioner."

"Don't worry… I can understand your frustration."

Doctor Quinzel smiled like a viper. "It just seemed like a personal vendetta."

The notorious criminal, 'The Joker', had been in the papers for months after his arrest, most recently due to a legal dispute regarding his sanity. Even though, after two months of court hearings and psychological tests, 'The Joker' had been branded insane, the police department had fought, nail and claw, for him to be tried as a normal man, claming that his crimes were too great to be over looked by the mark of insanity.

Doctor Quinzel had first assessed him during the proceedings of the case and as the new head psychiatrist of Arkham had quickly made enemies of the police department. Several words had crossed between herself and Commissioner Gordon, nearly a few blows too. Even though Claire did not feel comfortable with how Doctor Quinzel had gone about the issue, she could not fault her determination.

They cam into view of the interview room, two guards were waiting silently outside.

"Well, this is were you get off." Claire pulled her bag strap into a more comfortable position and tried to smooth her hair. "I'll be back in an hour and a half, I'd like to discuss a couple of things with you." Claire nodded. "Not a second to spare." The Doctor tapped her watch as she spoke – 11:59 am.

She gave Claire a small smile as a farewell and walked off briskly as the two guards punched in their codes. The door buzzed.

"Good morning Miss Lamont." Claire swallowed relieved.

"Good afternoon Doctor Crane." He smirked and watched her as she entered the room, his hands on the table in front of him, the fingers laced together. Claire's eyes skirted over his hands, subconscious checking that his slim wrists were bound together by metal.

The door clicked shut behind her and a small tingle of exhilaration ran through her limbs. There were no guards in the room with them, Crane refused to talk with any other soul present and he had a tendency to become… difficult if this rule was not followed to the letter.

He waited patiently while she retrieved her notebook, pen and dictaphone from her bag, watching her every movement like a hungry wolf.

Claire pretended not to know he was watching, just as she knew he pretended not to know that she knew he was looking.

It was exciting to be alone with him. Alone in the little white washed walled room with no windows, where she could kid herself that they were equals. Claire knew that Crane could quite easily kill her, no matter if he was bound, or if the panic button was mere inches from her hand. It was like being in a cage with a tiger without knowing the last time it had been fed. It was stupid but exhilarating. However, she still hoped that if he had wanted to kill her, he would have already. Still, she kept her pen in her hand and out of his direct reach, just in case.

"May I record?" She placed her hand on the dictaphone, her index finger resting on the play button.

"Of course." The little red light blinked on. It was a dance, a well-rehearsed play, she always asked and he always said yes. It seemed that Doctor Crane didn't care who heard what he had to say, only who he had to talk to.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Lamont?" He almost purred as he talked, his voice low, his full lips twitching upwards in a smirk.

"I'm alright, a little nervous about my presentation that's coming up." She smiled awkwardly as she took her seat in front of him; she never quite knew where to look.

"Have they given you a date?" His blue eyes never left her face.

"Next Monday."

"Ah, that's close. Your nerves are understandable, completely natural." Claire smiled and tried to focus on her left ear, his eyes were simply too distracting.

"I hope so."

**Why is she looking away?**

_Calm yourself. _

**We should teach her some manners Johnny. **

"I'm sure Commissioner Gordon has read your proposal?"

**Don't try to distract me with him. He doesn't have the figure for it. **

"Yes, he has." Claire, at twenty-four years was the younger than most candidates for the Emel grant. She had been a smart child with a bull's stubborn determination and was now studying for a PhD in criminal psychology, in the hope to work in law enforcement. Part of her studies involved interning, part time, in Gotham's police department.

"Perhaps you should ask Doctor Quinzel to read it over too?"

**Are you trying to piss me off Johnny?**

There was the smallest twitch in Doctor Crane's cheek, he clenched his jaw.

"I think she may be a little busy-"

"The clown?" There was a pause.

"Yes."

**Maybe if we put on some make up we could make Quinzel wet Johnny-**

_Be Quiet! _

"How is Scarecrow today?" Crane's attention snapped back to the young woman in front of him, she stared at her notebook.

**She remembered me Johnny. I'm tearing up.**

"He's… fine." Claire nodded and scribbled something on her notebook.

**Make sure she knows I send my regards. **

_This isn't the time._

**Oh come on, you never let me talk to her anymore. **

_I don't think she's comfortable with you after your last 'interview' together._

**I promise I'll play nice. **

_I can't let you have all the fun._ Crane smiled.

Two months previously

"Now… Miss Lamont," Doctor Mathews glanced at the papers in his hands. "I understand that you need to sit in on patient interviews for your… _research_," he looked at her distastefully. Claire stretched the scowl that was beginning to form on her face into a small, polite smile. "And I know you've somehow managed to get permission to sit in on my session, but I warn you," he stopped and stared at her. "Just because Doctor Crane was in the new doesn't mean he's no a highly dangerous man and he-"

"I know that Doctor Mathews, and I'm very grateful that you agreed to let me sit i-"

"Agreed?" He scoffed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. Claire clenched her jaw, she had no idea why this man had taken an instant dislike to her. "Just sit there and don't say a bloody thing." She could smell his breath and flinched as a spec of salvia hit her cheek. "Even if you want to go to the toilet, I don't want to hear a bloody word. Don't answer any questions he asks you, especially anything about fear."

"Doctor Quinzel already filled me in on-"

"Don't mention Doctor Quinzel to him either." He said ignoring her. Doctor Mathews turned to the guards behind him and Claire wiped the spit off her cheek.

"You already told me not to talk." She muttered, frustrated, she didn't appreciate being spoken to like a child. Thankfully Doctor Mathews didn't hear her.

"Open up." There was a buzz.

The room was smaller than she imagined, brighter, with a strip ceiling light.

Doctor Mathews motioned for her to sit on a chair in the corner of the room with a dirty finger, while he took a seat across the table from Doctor Crane.

Claire glanced quickly sat the psychiatrist, her breath catching ion her throat, for all the reading and research she had done, she had not bothered to loo photo of the man specifically and the few newspaper images she had seen had not done him justice.

She bushed deeply and looked away, cursing herself and her lack of professionalism. Jonathan watched as she carefully sat down, her cheeks burning a brilliant scarlet.

"Doctor Crane," Mathews began. "How are you today?"

Crane ignored him, choosing to focus his energy on the young woman; a smirk teased his lips.

**Who's the fresh meet?**

_I have no idea._

**Ripe for the plucking Johnny boy? I'll make her squeal.**

_No._

**What? Why not? I haven't had any fun in weeks.**

_Look at her eyes. _

Scarecrow paused for a moment, drinking her in. Claire glanced up to look at Doctor Crane again, but quickly looked away when she saw him staring.

**Oh.**

_Oh indeed. _

**Oh Johnny, that's perfect.**

_Isn't it?_

**We'll have to make sure.**

_I intend to. _

Only then did Crane realize that Mathews was still talking.

**Can I shut this cockroach up?**

_Soon._

Scarecrow laughed.

"Doctor Crane, for the purpose of this-"

"What's your name?" He stared at Claire; it took her a moment to register that she was being spoken to.

**Maybe she's a little slow. **

Mathews opened his mouth like a fish and ran a hand through his dirty brown hair.

"Don't answer." He glared at Claire and she frowned. "Doctor Crane, I don't think-"

Jonathan's face changed suddenly, it was a subtle and quick movement of muscle but it was quite obvious that he wasn't Doctor Crane anymore.

"I didn't ask you who the girl was, did I Mathews?" He rasped. His voice had changed into something low and guttural, like an animal.

"Doctor Crane, calm-"

"My name is Scarecrow!" Scarecrow yelled, standing quickly and slamming his hands onto the table. Mathews and Claire jumped.

Scarecrow looked at Mathews like a spider that had just felt a fly in its web. Mathews swallowed, his eyes darting to the panic button on the side of the wall as sweat broke out of his upper lip. This was getting out of hand/

"My name's Claire." She swallowed and looked at Scarecrow hoping to have broken the tension.

Scarecrow turned his head towards her slowly and grinned. "And do you have a last name Claire?" He spoke softy.

"Lamont."

"Claire Lamont." Mathews scowled at her. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too."

_How polite._

"This is most unexcept-"

"Shut it." Scarecrow growled, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Claire swallowed, feeling an adrenaline rush from speaking. Scarecrow turned back to face her.

"So Claire," he purred, lengthening the 'i' sound in her name. "What do you fear?"

She paused and bit her lip_. In for a penny, in for a pound._ "The dark." Mathews stared wide-eyed at her astonishment mixing with disgust on his face. But Claire didn't notice, she was mesmerized by Scarecrow and his sky before a sudden storm blue eyes.

"Really?"

Claire nodded.

"And what is it about the dark that scares you?" He tilted his head to the side. "Is it not being able to see?" Scarecrow sat back down. "So that you would be blind?"

There was a pause.

"No," Claire bit her lip. "It's different… it's more like being forced to look into the darkness, to just see black and not know what's coming."

"But knowing something will."

"Yes. And knowing you'll see it at the very last moment."

The silence was broken by Mathews scoffing, beginning to roll his eyes.

Without warning Scarecrow lunged forward, moving faster than Claire thought possible, and wrapped his hands around Mathews' throat. Claire jumped to her feet, moving on reflexes.

Mathews' eyes widened in chock and clawed as his throat, trying to prize the other man's fingers from his skin.

Look how thin his neck is Johnny. I can wrap both our hands around it so neatly. I can feel his panicked heart beat in out fingers.

"Miss Claire, would you please stay seated?" Scarecrow looked at her from under his eyelashes. Claire froze. "And if I see you looking at that panic button again, I'll break his neck." He shook Mathews gently for effect, the motion making the captive gurgle in pain. Claire sat slowly, her eyes never leaving Scarecrows.

"Now," scarecrow began, looking back at Mathews once he was satisfied with Claire. "We _hate_ talking to you," he squeezed tighter.

Mathews tried to grab at Scarecrow's face but his arms weren't long enough. Scarecrow shook him violently before slamming his captive's head against the table, his hands never leaving his neck.

Claire flinched, why wasn't anyone helping? Surely there was CCTB in here, surely someone could see what was happening.

Scarecrow shook Mathews again, pulling his face from the table. A thick gash leaked blood from his temple.

"Johnny told me not to bother to talk to you until now. Can you believe it? How boring you must be."

Scarecrow shifted his position on the able. When he had lunched for Mathews he had managed to jump on to the table with both his feet bound and was now hunched over Mathews, both hands squeezing, unmovable like a vice. Mathews' face was turning red, his eyes bulging out of his face.

**Why isn't he struggling Johnny? Is he too pathetic to even do that?**

"Please stop," Scarecrow looked at Claire, angry in his eyes, Mathews gurgling the only sound. "Please don't kill him." She swallowed, she knew how stupid she sounded but couldn't think of anything better. She couldn't even focus. She was surprised that her brain even remembered to tell her to breathe.

"You don't even like him."

Claire paused, thrown by the statement. "No, I-"

"Don't. Lie." He snarled, his grip tightening. Mathews wheezed for oxygen. "Don't ever lie to us."

"I don't know him." Claire glanced between both men.

"But you still don't like him." He said, enjoying her panic.

"He… He wasn't very nice earlier," _God I sound like a five year old._ "But that's no reason to-"

"No reason to what?"

Claire swallowed, the salvia catching in her throat. "To kill him."

Scarecrow laughed. The sound sent shivers along her skin, made her want to pull out her eyes so that she could stuff them in her ears.

"Who said I was going to kill him?" Mathews stared at him and breathed heavily as Scarecrow loosened his grip slightly. "You have very unique eyes Claire."

_What are you doing?_

"Very unusual blue, so dark, you could almost call it cobalt."

**I'm making sure.**

"Tell me Claire," he watched her over the top of his glasses. "Do all the members of your family have such striking eyes?"

Claire swallowed, in her panic she did not realize the strangeness of the question. "No, my Dad's eyes are brown."

"And your mother's?" He asked matter-of-factly.

"Erm." Claire frowned in concentration. "Her eyes were green."

"Were?"

"She died."

"My condolences."

"It's fine." _Just keep him talking, stay clam, keep _him _calm. _She glanced at Doctor Mathews. "She died when I was young."

"How young?"

"Nine…" Scarecrow certainly didn't possess the Doctor's tact. Claire swallowed again, fidgeting under his stare and brushed her hair behind her ear. "She died of liver failure." She blurted out.

"She was a drinker?" Scarecrow smirked.

"No, it was an under lying condition, Ketermin deficiency, she never knew."

_Oh that's perfect. _

**Happy now Johnny?**

Scarecrow paused, listening. "Hopefully not a condition you share." He muttered, sounding like Doctor Crane again for a moment.

"No, I've been tested." Claire watched as Scarecrow cocked his head to the side, listening again to an unheard voice.

"Any siblings?"

"Yes, a sister."

"Younger?"

"Older, by eight years."

"That's a large gap. What does she do?"

"She's a surgeon at Gotham Hospital."

Scarecrow smiled and Claire's blood ran cold.

"Married?"

"Yes."

"Children?"

"No."

"And I assume her eyes are not the same nightmare shade as you?" He smirked.

"… No, hers are brown."

Mathews groaned, whether it was from slight lack of oxygen or boredom, Claire didn't know but Scarecrow didn't take it well.

"So tell me Mathews," he gripped his neck tighter, all his attention focusing on his captive. "Since you're so _desperate_ to be in our little chat," Mathews spluttered, his limbs failing. "What do you fear?"

Mathews gasped, eyes wide.

"Sorry?" Scarecrow relaxed his grip a little.

"Spiders." He wheezed.

"Now Mathews," Scarecrow shook him, pulling his head closer until their noses almost touched. "I don't like liars, Johnny doesn't like lairs and I'm sure Miss Claire doesn't like them either, considering she's been so honest about herself…" Mathews gurgled and Scarecrow gave a fiendish smile. " I can tell when someone's lying…" He gripped tighter. "And you just _stink_ of it!"

Claire watched helplessly, paralyzed by her own fear. Mathews squirmed, his heartbeat thumping in his head, black spots swimming in front of his vision.

_That's enough._

Scarecrow gripped tighter. Mathews' eyes flickered closed.

_That's enough!_

Scarecrow's jaw clenched, his brow furrowed and he breath out slowly before Jonathan let go if Mathews' neck. Mathews, still unconscious, fell to the floor in a heap. Crane sighed and closed his eyes.

"You might want to press the panic button now Miss Lamont." He moved off the able and sat back in his chair, his hands neatly folded in front of him.

Claire stood and moved across the room slowly, keeping her eyes wide and fixed on Crane.

She pushed the red button in the middle of the white wall.

"It's very nice to have met you, Miss Lamont." An alarm sounded, the door to the room crashed open as guards and doctors rushed in.

They slammed Doctor Crane down on to the table as a nurse sunk a needle into his neck, injecting clear liquid. He stared at Claire.

"You really do have intriguing eyes."

Thirteen days later.

"I'm sorry to call you in like this Ms Lamont," Doctor Quinzel watched her carefully, Claire fidgeted nervously under her gaze. A little voice in the back of her head told her that the Doctor wasn't very keen on her. "But seeing as you are interviewing some of our other patients for your research,"

Doctor Quinzel leaned back in her mahogany chair, her hands on her desk. Her office was a moderate size, with large windows looking out over the asylum's grounds. Framed certificates of the Doctor's academic achievements littered the walls.

"Doctor Crane refused to talk to anyone but you, I have no idea why. I was thinking of you could-"

"Yes." Claire swallowed, she knew she had answered too quickly but a familiar surge of adrenaline had seeped into her veins. Even though she had been terrified during their last meeting there as something exciting about the prospect of seeing him again. And something flattering about being the only one he watched to speak to. It was arrogant, but undeniable.

Quinzel raised her eyebrows.

"It's just that, interviewing Doctor Crane would be amazingly helpful for my research. I mean-"

"You mean that not only is his psychological manifestation an interesting one, but he also happened to be a therapist in the place he is now hospitalized. Fallen from grace, if you like." She mused.

"It is a very interesting case." Claire rushed through her words, missing syllables.

Doctor Quinzel studied her again. "Very well." She said eventually. "I hope you understand the possible dangers. You would be alone in the room with him, even though Doctor Mathews has suffered no long-term injuries, Crane does not want to speak to him again and I would guess Doctor Mathews feels the same about him." She paused before sitting forward in her seat once more. "As you have already been informed, Crane also has violent tendencies towards guards when they are in the same room as him during therapy session-"

"What about CCTV?" Claire brushed her dark blonder hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry?"

"In the room, does he allow that?"

"Yes."

"So someone could see what was happening bef-"

"All the rooms are monitored except for some patient rooms and bathroom stalls… I understand you point, and it was simply unfortunate that no one was looking at the room at the right time." For some gut reason, Claire did not believe her. "However, I give you my assurances that all of Doctor Crane's meetings will be directly monitored from not on." Claire nodded. "also you will be in a consultation room were the panic button is on the underside of the table, all you would need to do wold be to reach under," Doctor Quinzel demonstrated with her own desk. "And press it. At least two guards will be stationed outside, as usual."

Doctor Quinzel stood. "I would also ask that you write up some notes for me on how the sessions go," she walked around to Claire. "I may give you things to ask Crane himself from time to time too."

"That all seems perfectly fine."

"Excellent."

* * *

"Goodbye Doctor Crane." Claire stood, turning off her dicaphone as she did so.

"Goodbye Miss Lamont."

She exited the door with a sigh and double-checked her bag, pulling out her I.D. pass and putting it on.

"Miss Lamont?" Claire turned to the young guard that had spoken her name. He couldn't have been much older than herself, with short dark hair and equally dark eyes.

"Hi." She smiled at him, he semen nervous.

"Doctor Quinzel asked me to take you to her office."

"Oh year, I remember." Claire rubbed her forehead, she had completely forgotten. She followed the young guard, leaving the two other guards outside of the interview room.

"So, Miss Lamont- "

"Claire." She grinned at him.

"Claire," he repeated. "I'm Adam, but everyone calls me Brent." He returned the smile. "That's my surname."

"It's very nice to meet you, Adam Brent." She rubbed her forehead again, she felt like she could go to sleep right there and then, but she still had a shift to do at the police station in an hour. "Have you just started?"

"Yeah, I just started the West shift."

"How are you finding it?"

"Good, good, everyone's been really nice." He paused and licked his lips. "But freaked out by Doctor Quinzel though."

Claire laughed at his expression. "She can be a but intimidating."

"Yeah, I feel like she's analyzing my all the time." He scratched the back of his head.

"I felt the same, I though she hated me, but I think she's just… cautious? You know? She's really nice once you get to know her." Claire pulled at her I.D. as it started to get wrapped around her bag strap again.

Brent nodded. "How long have you been here?"

"A little over two months, but I don't work here, I'm just a student." Brent's eyes lit up.

"Really? Me too. I just work here part time."

"What are you studying?"

"MA in forensics." He grinned "Are you doing an MA?"

Claire shook her head. "No, I'm doing a PhD." She brushed her hair behind her ear.

"Cool." He grinned at her, blushing slightly. "And here we are." Brent and Claire came to a stop outside Doctor Quinzel's office.

"Here we are. Thank you."

"It's my job." He shrugged. "See you round?" He asked hopefully.

"Sure." Brent grinned and turned to go before quickly turning back around to face hr.

"Oh, I meant to say, Doctor Quinzel told me that she had extended your twenty minutes leaving slot today in case the meeting goes over – so not to worry."

Claire nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem." Claire knocked on the office door as Brent walked back down the corridor.


	3. Falling Free

**Author's comments: Thank you so much for everyone that has followed and faved. And a very special thank you to Guest, TheUndyingCrystal, guccileopard, ferret assassins nin, Hench-Girl95, xmudblood, faeriemaiden96, Anguish is My Poison and KnoKnayme (I must say I love your name!)**

**Guccileopard- your comment really touched me, thank you so much. It is an honor that you think it is well written so far, I hope it carries on to be up to your standard. **

**ferret assassins nin- I hope that I have continued to keep your interest :)**

**faeriemaiden96- Your comment made me very happy, thank you!**

**Anguish is My Poison- Thank you so much for your comment, I worry a lot about writing new characters, it really means a lot to me that you like Claire. I hope I managed to keep her likable! **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.

Chapter Two: Falling Free

"Doctor Quinzel has given me some questions to ask you." Claire pulled the papers out of her bag and placed them on the table in front of her.

"Is that why you had a meeting with her after our last session?" Doctor Crane asked matter of factly but his jaw clenched and he looked at the corner of the table.

**Aww, what's the matter Johnny? Still sore about Quinzel?**

_Shut up._

Claire paused. "Yes…" She frowned. "How did you know about that?"

**Look at that, I think you broke her brain.**

_Do you have to comment on every little thing? _

**Someone got out of the wrong side of the loony bin this morning. **

"Guards talk, I think they forget I'm-"

**We're.**

"there, a young man…" Crane paused, brow furrowed, trying to remember the guards name.

**Stop making a meal out of it, you remember that puss filled brat's name as well as I do.**

"Brent?" Claire's cheeks flushed a little.

**The whore. The absolute fu-**

_Be quiet!_

"He seems very taken with you." Doctor Crane studied Claire carefully, staring into her dark blue eyes with his own aqua. She stared back for a moment before blinking and looking away. Jonathan was satisfied.

"You had questions?" Claire looked back up at him relieved.

"Erm, yes." She pulled out a form from in between the papers in front of her.

"Is it the C5 form?" He sighed.

Claire studied the paper in front of her and nodded. "Yes."

He smirked. "Well, unless they've changed the answer key, the best, 'healthiest' options are, D, A, B, B, A, C, D, B, A."

Claire quickly scanned the questions and couldn't help but smile, impressed.

"They haven't changed it."

**They never do Johnny. **

"Good."

The rest of the meeting went fairly uneventfully, with polite chitchat from both sides. Claire was disappointed when the session was over; the hour and a half always went too quickly.

"Goodbye Doctor Crane."

"Goodbye Miss Lamont."

"Claire!" Brent said loudly and grinned at her like an idiot as the door shut behind her. She blushed slightly, certain that Doctor Crane would have heard him but unsure why it caused her embarrassment. She could imagine his scowling face, the clench of his jaw, the subtle squinting of his eyes.

"Hello Brent," she gave a nod of greeting to the two guards stationed outside of the interview room.

"This is Warren," Brent motioned to the guard next to him.

"Hi."

"Nice to meet you." They started to walk to the exit.

"How are you Claire?" Brent asked.

"I'm alright, yourself?" In truth Claire felt exhausted and could do with about forty-eight hours of sleep.

"Not bad." There was an uncomfortable silence. "So when are you in again?"

"Friday."

"Cool."

Claire brushed her hair behind her ear. "I'm here every Monday and Wednesday at twelve pm, every other Tuesday at four pm and the first Friday of every month at seven pm. I used to sit in on other interviews too, but I've finished most of that side of my research now, so I'm only really here to see Doctor Crane."

"Wow, that's a lot." Claire was almost certain he was just being polite and not really that interested, but she smiled anyway.

"It's fine, I enjoy it." They turned a corner.

"Well, here you are again." Brent and Warren entered in their pass codes. "I always worry I'll forget mine."

Claire laughed. "Thank you." The door buzzed open and Claire stepped through it. "See you Brent, see you Warren." She gave them both a little wave before exiting.

She walked into the reception and mouthed a greeting to the receptionist who was on the phone.

She pushed open one of the large oak doors and walked out into the grounds. Claire started walking down the path to the main gate and shifted through her bag to find her purse. A few patients milled around the grounds enjoying the sunshine as Claire double-checked that she had enough money for the bus.

She jumped at the sound of a car horn. A police car pulled up on the road next to her and the passenger window wound down.

"Hi," Claire grinned in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Giving you a lift, get in." Claire opened her mouth to speak. "And don't say you don't need one."

"Alright." She laughed and got in. "Thank you."

Detective Andrea Lawson waited until Claire had put on her seatbelt before she started driving. The Detective had long flame orange hair had she had pulled into a messy ponytail.

"Don't mention it, it's not really a good neighbourhood," Andrea kept her eyes on the road as she drove. "Even at this time. Wouldn't want our only intern getting killed now would we?" Claire chuckled and dug around in her bag to find her phone and turn it on.

"How have you been?" Claire asked.

Lawson slowed down as they approached the asylum's gates. "Alright, same old, same old." She wound down her window and handed her ticket to one of the guards at the gates, Claire held out her I.D. card for inspection as another guard had a quick glance in the back seat before giving the okay. The gates opened and they drove on.

"How's the nuthouse?" Lawson asked playfully.

Claire gave a mock scowl. "Fine."

"And how's your precious Doctor?" Claire flushed a bright scarlet. "Still gassing people?" Lawson glanced at her.

"He's…" Claire tried to compose herself. "He's fine too."

Lawson shook her head. "You got it bad kid."

Claire's blush deepened. "I don't- it's not like," she coughed. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Sure… sure." Lawson chuckled. Claire's phone buzzed, letting her know that she had one missed call and a voice message. "As long as you remember," the Detective's tone turned serious. "Why he's in there."

"I know." Claire swallowed, a little taken a back. "Do you mind if I check my voice mail?"

"Go ahead." Lawson smiled, her voice light hearted once more.

"Thanks." Claire pressed the phone to her ear.

"You have one new message and two saved messages. New message."

"Hi Claire, it's Grace, sorry I missed your call. Looks like I've missed you again too. I swear one day I'll remember your shift times." Claire smiled. "Anyway, things have been crazy here. Doctor Wesson, the head brain surgeon, has gone missing… And things are… Well, just mad. I'll call you soon." There was a pause. "Bye."

"The message was left today at-" Claire ended the call.

"Who left a message?"

"My sister," Claire looked up at Lawson. "Hey, do you know anything about a Doctor Wesson going missing?"

Lawson frowned. "No… I don't think so, I mean I'm not in missing persons. Who is he?"

"He's a Doctor at Gotham Hospital."

"Sorry." She shrugged.

"No worries." Claire stared out of the window, not really seeing anything. For some reason something bugged her, just kept poking the back of her mind.

_"Any siblings?"_

_"Yes, a sister."_

"Claire?"

"Hmm?" She hadn't realized Lawson had been speaking.

"We're here." Claire stared blankly at her for a moment.

"Oh." She unbuckled herself as Lawson got out, following suit soon after.

_"What does she do?"_

_"She's a surgeon at Gotham Hospital."_

_Scarecrow smiled and Claire's blood ran cold._

Claire shivered.

"You okay?" Lawson looked at her, concerned.

"Yeah, just felt someone walk over my grave, that's all." Lawson walked her for a moment longer then turned; both women walked up the steps to Gotham police station.

"Michael?"

The officer looked up from his computer. "Yeah?"

"Where's Commissioner Gordon?"

"Am I psychic?" Claire sighed.

"Do you know were he _could _be?"

"Yeah." He looked back to his computer screen.

Claire stared at him in disbelief. "Could you tell me?"

"Yeah." He looked at her.

"Can you tell me _now_?" She over pronounced every word.

Michael smirked. "He left for his meeting about three minutes ago." He looked back to the computer.

Claire swore, turned and ran.

"Your welcome!" He yelled after her.

Claire ran to her desk, narrowly avoiding colliding with Detective Mackenzie, and grabbed a blue spiral folder before sprinting down the corridor to the car park.

She opened the exit door by simply running into it.

"Commissioner Gordon." She shouted, very out of breath. Jim Gordon stood, his car door open. He raised his eyebrows at her. "You forgot the White's case file." She walked over to him, trying to control her breathing. "You'll need it for your meeting." His face lit up as she handed him the blue folder.

Commissioner Gordon laughed. "How much are we paying you?"

"Not enough." Claire wheezed and Gordon chuckled leafing through the pages.

"Thank you."

"No problem." Claire breathed in deeply before turning and walking back to the building. Gordon smiled, shook his head and got into his car.

Claire walked slowly back to her desk, her breathing returning to normal. She flopped onto her chair and pushed her hair behind her ear. Then frowned.

A small white piece of paper was stuck to her computer screen; there was a single typed word in the center in dark purple ink.

FEAR. It said.

Claire looked at it for a moment until scowling. She pulled it off her screen and threw it in the bin.

"Bloody Michael." She muttered.

_"So Claire, what do you FEAR?"_


	4. Trying my best not to forget

**Author's comments: Thank you so much to everyone who has faved and followed this story! And a massive thank you to ****omnomchocolate****, ****Hench-Girl95****, ****KnoKnayme****, ****LookAtTheBeautifulDay**** and ****ferret assassin nin**** for reviewing! I'm very sorry that this chapter is a bit slow, it's laying some ground work for later on. **

**LookAtTheBeautifulDay**** – Thank you so much, your comment means a lot to me. I hope as the story progresses that it will show a more original plot line :)**

**ferret assassin nin**** – I hope I don't let you down! **

**I just thought I'd list a few really awesome Crane fanfictions on here that you should check out if you haven't already! **

**Agateophobia by TC Stark**

**Fearing Love by Hench-Girl95**

**Limerence by TC Stark**

**Scythe by Ennya**

**The Assistant by Magdalena Iris Roth**

Disclaimer: I do not own batman

Chapter Three: Trying my best not to forget

Claire sat in bed, papers and pens littering the covers. She had to stop and rewind her dictaphone every few minutes because she had fallen asleep.

She sat up straighter and blinked, trying to force her eyelids as wide as possible. The numbers on her digital side table clock glowed red – 1:34am. At least she didn't have to be up in the morning. The novella _A Clockwork Orange_was propped on the side table, a bookmark in its middle.

Claire yawned and rewound her dictaphone again. She needed to write up her notes from her session with Doctor Crane before she forgot the details and while she could still make sense of her rushed hand written notes.

She pressed play.

"-when I applied to the course." She hated the sound of her voice on tape.

"What made you do it in the end?" Doctor Crane's voice was the same cool perfection as it was in real life.

Claire rolled her neck; it gave a satisfying clock and typed a few lines on her laptop. She had been at the police station from nine to half three, Arkham from four to half five and had worked a five hour shift at the petrol station shop from seven. It wasn't a hard job, and it didn't pay well, but she had been standing for five hours straight and her feet still ached.

Her flat was small, a grand total of three rooms, a tiny bathroom that only just managed to fit in a toilet, sink and shower. A bedroom that could only hold her bed, wardrobe and a small set of draws she used as a bedside table and a kitchen/living room. The rent was still disgustingly high for what it was, but it was the cheapest place she could find that wasn't in the Narrows and she had promised her father that she wouldn't live in the Narrows.

Her internship with the Gotham police paid quite well for an internship, her work at the asylum was unpaid but counted towards her phD. She hardly kept up with the bills and university fees, even though she had a part time job. She had considered going full time but she didn't think she would be able to keep up with her studies.

"Do you like the woman your Father married?" Crane asked. Claire had forgotten the dictaphone was still running.

"Yes. She's very nice. I mean, my Dad's been with her since I was fifteen, it was no surprise they got married." Claire answered.

There was a pause; Claire could remember Crane nodding slowly, half listening to an unheard voice.

"Was it a surprise when he moved out of Gotham?"

"No, well, it was a surprise when he first got the job offer. But it paid more and Dad always wanted to move out of Gotham ever since we moved here." Claire laughed at herself, she sounded so young, like a child giving a presentation.

"She he moved to Chicago?"

"When I was seventeen."

"And you moved in with your sister?"

"Yes. But I don't live with her anymore, I moved out into my own flat when she got married."

"How old were you?"

"Twenty two."

"You don't live with anyone now?" She was certain the real question Doctor Crane was asking was _why_didn't she live with anyone else.

"No." Most of her friends lived in the Narrows or university accommodation that she wasn't eligible for.

"Why did you move out?"

"They had just got married... I wanted to give them some 'room to breathe'."

Doctor Crane gave a small cough. "Going back to what you said earlier, 'your father wanting to move out of Gotham ever since he moved there'."

"Yes?"

"Where did you live before?"

"London, we moved to Gotham after my Mother died."

"Ah, that explains your accent."

"I'm sorry?" Claire remembered the blush that had burned her face and cursed herself, reliving the memory.

"It has a touch of an 'Atlantic' quality to it. A subtle note."

Claire's head snapped up, she hadn't realised that she had fallen asleep. She glanced at the clock, it had only been a few minutes.

"-So unfortunately, I didn't get it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, did they give you a reason why?"

"Well," Claire coughed on the recording. "Sort of, I mean, I can understand why, the Emel grant is for research that is an outstanding contribution to science, I don't think my research was up to scratch." Claire smiled.

"Who got the grant?"

"Simon Crinton. He's a medical student researching brain cancer." Claire had met the man a few times and he seemed nice, losing to him wasn't so bad.

"Psychiatry is never taken seriously enough next to medical practises." She hadn't noticed at the time, but the Doctor's voice sounded more like Scarecrow's, the alternate personality seeping through. She quickly typed onto her laptop and pressed play.

"It doesn't matter, there are always other grants."

"Hmm, perhaps something will come crashing along for you soon." Claire frowned at the odd choice of words.

Claire woke to the sound of her phone ringing. She pulled herself out of bed, glancing at the clock – 9:45am – and groaned. She hurried into the living room and answered.

"Hello?" Claire said hoarsely.

"Is that Miss Lamont?" A chirpy sounding woman asked.

"It is." Claire fiddled with the hem of her baggy red t-shirt, it used to have a band name printed on the front but it was long gone. However it was comfortable and her favourite top to sleep in. She was also wearing pyjama bottoms with pictures of cartoon cats on them.

"This is Stacey Lisbon, I'm calling on behalf of Mr Ben Followers, comity head for the Emel grant," Claire's eyes widened and she stood up straight. "We're pleased to inform you that you have been awarded it this year." Claire swore. "I'm sorry?"

"No, sorry, I just, really?" She ran her hand through her hair and paced backwards and forwards.

"Yes Miss Lamont, the board were very impressed with your presentation and-"

"I'm really sorry to interrupt, but I thought Simon Crinton had been given the grant?"

"Well, that's correct." The woman seemed less chirpy. "But I'm afraid because of his recent predicament-"

"Recent predicament?" Claire frowned.

"He died last night in a car crash." Claire froze, her brain playing and rewinding the same scene.

_"Hmm, perhaps something will come crashing along for you soon."_

Present Day

"Don't call her that." Daniels scowled at Paul.

"It's fine." Claire said, looking away. "It's what he knows me as."

"That doesn't make it okay." Daniels put the small black box on a side table and opened it.

"Paul didn't mean anything by it." She said, sombre.

Paul flinched at hearing his name. "How did you?.."

Daniels and Warren looked at Miss Lamont, careful not to look at her eyes. The room was a dark size, but dark, the only light from a small crack in the black out curtains that covered the window.

"When was the serum changed?" Warren asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Two weeks ago." Daniels answered. "Are you feeling the effects?"

"It's wearing off faster than usual." Claire motioned to her head with her hand. "I can hear the whispering."

"Warren, call it in to Doctor Mottram," Warren nodded and stepped outside to use his radio. "Can I check the collar?" Claire nodded and pulled her long hair over her right shoulder, exposing a C shaped metal collar around the back of her neck. He checked the readout on the back and sighed.

"Low?" Claire asked, already knowing the answer.

"One point six, it's down seven from yesterday. Is it the wait?"

"No. I felt it last night." There was a pause.

"Okay... we'll get it changed after your transfer." Daniels turned back to the box. Paul watched Claire; he could feel whispering in his head, like someone was shifting through his memories. She had a dark black circle on each temple, what looked like a bolt stuck on her skin.

Daniels took out a pair of sunglasses similar to the pair he was wearing and what looked like a small hand held drill. He put the glasses over Claire's eyes, making sure the bolts lined up with the frames. Paul fidgeted nervously as Daniels held the drill to Claire's face.

"Don't worry," she said moving her head slightly in Paul's direction. "It's all standard procedure." She gave a small smile before wincing as Daniels used the drill to secure the glasses to her face. It took less than a moment.

"Miss Lamont's a tough one; she broke her own thumb once." Daniels smiled weakly; Paul hadn't noticed the thin scar on Daniels temple until know, but it seemed to almost shine in the half light. "Hands." Claire held her wrists up as Daniels cuffed them together. "Ready?"

Claire stood and Daniels put a hand on her arm, gently guiding her out of the cell. Paul waited for them to go past, looking at the small bookshelf on the far wall before following Daniels. There was a battered copy of _A Clockwork Orange_ that took pride of place.


	5. What happened to us?

What happened to us? 

**Author's comments: Thank you so much for everyone who has faved and followed! A special thank you to KnoKnayme, I hope this chapter keeps your intrigue! Hench-Girl95, you're very welcome :) I love your story! I demand more updates! :D I haven't seen the film, but I really want to! (I've only read the book). C0nt0rt3dM1nd, hopefully everything will start to come together soon :) faeriemaiden96, your comment made me laugh! Thank you! And TykiPyon, thank you so much for your comment, it means so much and your reaction to Harley's hammer made me giggle!**

**I'm so sorry that there has been a gap for this update, I have another two chapters already written (on paper) I just have to tighten them and then type them up (with always takes a while) I have been messing around with this chapter for ages, it just doesn't quite sit right with me, but I thought I'd better post it or I never would.**

Six months previously

"I know it sounds crazy." Claire looked at him, imploring him to believe her. commissioner Gordon watched her carefully, her eyes were wide with dark circles ringing them, her hair messy and spilling out of a clip.

"So your saying that you believe Simon Crinton was murdered?"

"Yes." She shifted in her chair, she felt like a naughty school child sent to the head masters office.

"And that Crane had something to do with it?"

"Yes."

Gordon sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Claire Lamont had been interning at the police station for almost four months, she was friendly, worked hard and was mostly well liked.

Until know she had not been prone to the fit of diluted panic she seemed to be experiencing. She had come into the department at ten in the morning, looking dishevelled and asking to see him. She had waited forty five minutes as he finished his meeting before they went into his office. It was there that Claire explained that she had got the Emel grant. Gordon, a little confused as to why she had come in to tell him, congratulated her at first. But then she went on to explain about Simon Crinton, a car crash victim that had happened early in the morning that Gordon had been aware about before Claire had come in.

She had pulled her dictaphone out of her bag to let Gordon hear Crane for himself.

"Hmm, perhaps something will come crashing along for you soon."

"Crane doesn't talk like that, it's so... obvious. So un-poetic," Claire was too busy rushing her words to notice Gordon raise his eyebrows at her. "He said this so there would be no doubt. He's sending a message."

"But why would Crane want him dead?"Claire faltered, running a hand through her messy hair.

"I don't know, for kicks? To screw with me? I know he's locked up but..." she rubbed her forehead desperately. "Last week there was a note on my desk that said 'fear' and-"

"Do you still have it?"

"No," Claire sighed. "I threw it away." There was a pause before she looked at Gordon, pleading. "Please Commissioner; just run a tox-screen on Simon Crinton as part of the autopsy. If nothing comes of it, then there's no harm done." Gordon sighed. "I know it sounds crazy."

"So you're saying that you believe Simon Crinton was murdered?"

"Yes."

"And that Crane had something to do with it?"

"Yes."

Gordon sighed again, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Okay."

"What?" Claire frowned and leaned forward in her seat.

Gordon put his glasses on. "Okay, what the hell?" Claire gapped at him, unsure how to react. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Thank you." She breathed, relief calming her heart beat. "Thank you so much."

Gordon waved his hand dismissively. "Well," he looked at his watch. "You have to be at Arkham in forty four minutes."

"Oh," Claire had completely forgotten. "Right, yes." She stood up quickly, grabbing her bag.

"McKenzie and I will give you a lift."

"No, its fine, I can get the bus."

"I insist. Besides we've got our own appointment with Quinzel." Gordon stood, by now he knew 'I can get the bus' meant 'I'm going to walk.' The exited the office. "McKenzie," the afore mentioned police office looked up and scowled.

"Quinzel?"

"Got it in one." McKenzie's scowl deepened.

The car journey was an uneventful one, Gordon and McKenzie talked amongst themselves as Claire looked out the window. She felt like the butterflies in her stomach had evolved into rapid dogs.

Claire pulled out her I.D. as they walked into the reception.

"Hey Claire," a thin woman smiled at her from behind the glass of the reception booth.

"Hi." She returned the expression, feeling guilty that, for the life of her, she couldn't remember the receptionist name.

"Warren and Fleming are here to take you to your meeting, Commissioner Gordon, Foster and Walter are here to take you to Doctor Quinzel's office, she's expecting you."

"Thanks." Commissioner Gordon said before turning to Claire. "Lamont?"

"Yes?"

"Don't confront Crane." Claire nodded.

"I won't." She lied. Gordon nodded at her before turning and walking away.

Claire didn't remember the walk to the interview room, she didn't even remember opening the door, but she heard it when it locked behind her.

"Good morning Miss Lamont."

"Good afternoon Doctor Crane." She seemed to move on autopilot as she sat on her chair.

**Whose hedge has she been dragged through?**

She ran a hand through her hair before looking at him.

**And why weren't we doing the dragging?**

Crane watched her carefully, his blue eyes like shards of glass cutting into her skin.

**She didn't even get out that stupid dictaphone of hers. We **_**really**_**must've broken her brain this time.**

Scarecrow laughed.

"How are you feeling today?"

"I found out that I got the Emel grant."

"Oh?" Jonathan smirked. "I thought it had gone to someone else."

"So did I," Claire watched Crane until she could bare his constant unblinking stare no longer. "But he died."

"How sad." He adjusted his glasses. "But fortunate for _you_." The room began to swim.

"Did you have anything to do with it?" She spoke softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you have anything to do with it?" She said her voice still quiet.

**I like the new tough girl routine.**

Crane watched her for a moment, studying her face.

"First of all, Miss Lamont," he adjusted his glasses again, making sure the frames were as perfectly a lined as they could be. "I commend how direct you're trying to be and the attempt to hide how frightened you are, wide-eyed-deer disposition you have is very endearing, _really_. But," he leaned forward in his seat. "How could I have anything to do with a _car crash_in here?"

Claire swallowed. "I never said he was in a car crash..."

"Oh," Crane raised his eyebrows, still smiling. "Didn't you?" She felt sick before briefly thinking about the dictaphone in her bag. For a moment she toyed with the idea of somehow turning it on and tricking a confession out of him, but she quickly dismissed it. She knew Crane was smarter than that and definitely smarter than she was. Talking to him was like a game of chess, and she had just lost her queen.

"So how are you Doctor Crane?" He smiled as she accepted her failure.

The session ran ten minutes longer than usual and Claire left the room feeling emotional and physically drained.

"Hi Claire!" Brent beamed at her and she smiled weakly, now really wasn't the time.

"Hello Brent." She began to walk towards the exit, two guards following her.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" He gently touched her arm, bringing her to a stop. He seemed nervous.

Claire looked at her watch, she had eight minutes. "Sure."

"You see-" he looked up at the two guards standing directly behind her. "Could you guys give use a minute?"

They nodded and walked back to the end of the corridor out of ear shot.

"What's up?" She tried to sound normal but all she could think about was her conversation with Doctor Crane.

_Claire swallowed. "I never said he was in a car crash..."_

"_Oh," Crane raised his eyebrows, still smiling. "Didn't you?"_

"Erm, it's just... it's just..." Brent sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You work in the police department right?"

"Yeah, well I just intern there."

"I handed my application in for the intern position in the forensics department, I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me?" He said, disappointed.

"Sure, no problem." She smiled weakly and checked her watch, five minutes.

"Thanks." He turned to go before spinning back around again. "Are you busy Friday?" He paused. "'Cause I was wondering if you'd like to see a film or?.."

She smiled politely while he fidgeted nervously. She swallowed_. What the hell._"That sounds nice." Four minutes.

He broke into a massive smiled. "Great, that's really great, um," he glanced at his watch. "You're in tomorrow right?"

"Yes."

"We'll sort it out then, 'cause you've got to make your slot." He motioned to the guards to come back. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye." She gave him a little wave and then hurried towards the exit. She half ran, half skipped with the two guards beside her. They reached the exit door with two minutes to spare.

There was a guard she didn't know in the small office reception. _What's with all the new guards?_

"Hi," she breathed. "Claire Lamont." She held up her I.D.

"Your late." He didn't even bother to look up.

"I've got two minutes."

"Not by my watch." He tapped his wrist.

"Come on Johnson," the guard behind her said. Johnson looked up, annoyed.

"I can't help you, you know the rules. Everyone gets a twenty minute slot to leave. If they go over they need either the warden, Doctor Quinzel or the head guard on shift to confirm and sign here." He held up a form and pen. "Before they can get out of the building. No exceptions."

The guard behind her sighed. "Where are they?"

Johnson smiled, there was something about the expression that distressed Claire. "Doctor Quinzel isn't in today, the warden is in his office and Tarrant is the head guard this shift and he's," Johnson scanned his computer screen. "In the fifth floor lunch room."

"We'll go to Tarrant." The guard turned to Claire, "he's closer." He sighed again and they set off. "Sorry about this."

"It's okay, it's my fault."

"Johnson has a stick up his ass."

"Brent shouldn't have kept her talking." The other guard said.

"Brent's love struck." Claire blushed deeply.

They walked in relative silence before taking the lift to the fifth floor and walking down another corridor. The journey was lengthened by the constant entering of pass codes and opening of doors.

They paused outside of the lunch room.

"Fifth floor is minimum security, so don't worry, there are plenty of guards in there, plus us." He gave Claire a smile, which she returned. She took off her I.D. from around her neck and shoved it in her bag all the same.

The room was full of people but quieter than she expected, with white washed walls that matched the rest of the asylum's decor.

The spotted Tarrant standing with Daniels on the far side of the room and walked over.

"Tarrant."

"Green, what are you doing here?" He frowned.

"Johnson went all high and mighty and enforced the twenty minutes ruled within the twenty minutes."

Tarrant's scowl deepened. "For God's sake." He took out his radio. "A11-Tarrant."

The radio crackled. "M31-Johnson."

"Why aren't you letting people out in their appointed time slots?"

Claire didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation and smiled at Daniels. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"Ditto." He grinned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." She glanced at the thin white scar on his temple, goosebumps running over her skin.

"_Why so late? We've waited and waited and waited." "Please... don't-"_

"You're on a main shift again."

"Yeah, I thought it was time." She nodded.

"I'm glad." They shared a small smile.

"So, how has-" There was a loud commotion from across the room. Two patients stood and grabbed hold of each other. One pulled the other across the table and began punching him viscously.

There was the smallest pause, an intake of breath, before the other patients began to yell, most forming a circle around the fighting pair, some trying to get involved instead.

"What the hell?" Daniels rushed over, the other guards doing the same. Tarrant talked rapidly into his radio. Claire watched, unsure what to do, as the guards tried to calm the situation.

"Excuse me, are you Claire Lamont?"

She turned to face the speaker. "Yes?" She answered automatically.

A small dark haired man stood in front of her. He smiled nervously, his hands behind his back. His clothing showed him to be a patient.

"I'm sorry." He said, giving a little shrug. Claire frowned.

"Wha-"

Without warning he lunged at her, not giving her a moment to react, she didn't see the needle until it was stuck in her arm, directly in her elbow crease the metal piecing through the thin material of her blouse.

Shock blotted out the pain of the inch long metal needle sticking into her. _It looks like someone else's arm..._

She stared, moving to slow to stop him as he pressed down on the plunger, emptying the clear liquid into her veins. Her arm tingled cold around the entry wound for a second, the moment seeming to last forever.

Claire moved without thinking and punched the man in the nose with all her strength. There was a small click of cartilage as her fist connected.

The assailant fell to the floor groaning and holding his nose. However the action caused the needle to drag down her arm, cutting in, blood welling around the wound, before it feel out and clattered onto the hard floor.

Claire hissed, feeling that pain and gripped the wound with her left hand, applying pressure.

"Claire!" She turned to see Daniels running over, the fight having been defused. "Are you okay?" He asked before seeing scarlet seeping through her fingers, the bloodied needled on the floor.


	6. What Happened to me?

What happened to me? 

**Author's comments: Well it has been a while, I have been on holiday and way from my keyboard. I have desided that after this chapter I will be changing this story to a mature rating because there is going to be a lot more violence, some swearing (from Scarecrow mainly) and possible future smut. (I also want to mention the droog reference, I know that isn't a direct quote and doesn't work in the sense that droog means friend and Alex doesn't talk about himself in that way, but I couldn't think of or find a quote that I liked and fitted so I did a mix. I hope you'll understand!) **

**Thank you to everyone who has faved, followed and commented on this story, it means so very much to me! **

**Samiantha- I hope you'll like the confrontation in this chapter :D**

**Morgann- Thank you so much for your feedback, I really worry that the back and forth in time is confusing, I'll have to go back on the previous chapters and try to sort it out. Bold is usually Scarecrow and Italics is usually Crane (though sometimes when Claire is on her own and talks to herself this appears in Italics too). I seem to be having a little issue when uploading as sometimes not all the Italics say as Italics. I need to try and correct this too, thank you for bringing it to my attention and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**Blueberrytoast- Thank you so much! :D**

**C0nt0rt3dM1nd****- Sorry this update took so long and thank you for your kind words, there's going to be a lot more the needle type think in the chapter 7 (which I'm editing at the moment) I really hope you like the update! **

**OH ME OH MY- Thank you so much for your lovely words! **

**DearNoah****- Thank you so much for your comment, it means so much to me that you like Claire (I kind of end up hating any OC I write) I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

Claire didn't quite remember the details of how she got to the hospital; the fine points were hazy to say the least.

She remembered Daniels talking on his radio while Tarrant held down the man that had attacked her, nurses injected him with clear liquid.

_She how you like it. _

She remembered saying she was fine, insisting she didn't have to go to the hospital, knowing that Grace was working there today.

An asylum doctor checked over her arm. "You've torn your median cubital vein."

"My what?" The doctor frowned at her before taking her pulse.

"She's in minor shock."

_I wish they wouldn't talk like I'm not here._

But she mainly remembered Andrea being there, her flame orange hair like the setting sun.

"What are you doing here?" Lawson had been waiting to give Claire a lift and had entered the asylum reception when she was late.

"I don't want to go to the hospital-"

"You're going. We need blood work." Andrea said bluntly, she left little room to be argued with.

Claire sighed. "Just don't take me to Gotham general."

They took her to Gotham general.

The hospital had been rebuild in record time with a Harvey Dent memorial wing.

"Well the good news is the damage to your arm is superficial and you won't need stitches." The doctor at Gotham hospital bandaged her right arm.

"Any bad news?"

"We'll need to take some blood samples."

"Well, as long as you're a bit more gentle than the last guy."

The physician smiled and took the blood from her left arm. Claire watched as the vials filled.

"We're also going to need you to stay over night." Claire pulled a face. "You're still in chock and-"

"I'm fine."

"Listen to the doctor." Andrea said, she had barely left Claire's side.

She looked up at Lawson. "Are you my new body guard?"

"If you like kid." She placed a hand on Claire's shoulder. "But you're staying." The younger woman opened her mouth to protest. "No excuses. Besides, I know the real reason you don't want to stay is that you don't want to worry your sister. I called her before we got here." She crossed her arms triumphantly.

Claire scowled and grumbled. "I'm sure there are people who need the bed more than me."

"I doubt you could even get home." Andrea mock scowled back at her.

"Tell me your address." The doctor watches as Claire relayed I quickly and easily.

"That's not where you live." Claire frowned. "I've dropped you off plenty of time to know that."

Claire rubbed her eyes. "No… that's my sister's address… I used to live there…"

"Let's get you to your room."

She barely remembered getting changed into the thin hospital nightgown and she didn't recall getting in to bed, just that she was in it.

"I've got to be at work at…" She frowned, trying to remember the details.

"I've sorted it." Andrea said.

"Do you think whatever was in that injection effected my memory?" Claire sounded half-asleep.

"Shh." She soothed. "It's just the shock."

Claire wasn't sure if she believed her. "Is it okay that you're here?"

"It's fine, we look after officers that are down."

"I'm not an officer yet." Lawson smiled but said nothing.

"Claire!" Grace rushed into the room and gripped her sibling in a tight embrace. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Grace studied her with piercing brown eyes. "Really, I'm fine." She waved her right arm in the air. "Don't even need stitches."

"I've gotta go." Andrea said, politely nodding at Grace. "I'll see you later Claire."

"Bye." She said and glanced at the dark sky framed by windows.

_When did it get so late?_

"I've called Dad." Grace said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"You what? I'm fine."

"Claire." Grace sighed. "God knows what was in that needle and-"

"I know." Claire stared at her pleadingly. "Please, I'm trying not to think about it."

Grace nodded after a moment, it seemed like Claire was nine again, the constant, ' "I'm fine." ', the continuous tough guy act.

"Your test results are clean so far and you don't have an air bubble, the police are testing the needle." She swallowed. "But most things need ten hours plus to be sure."

Claire nodded, on autopilot. "Thanks for telling me."

"No problem." Grace sat on the bed next to her, shoving her sibling in the shoulder to get her to move up and give her more space. Claire giggled.

"I'm going to swing by yours later and get you some clothes for tomorrow. Anything you want in particular?"

"Whatever's clean." Grace laughed.

"Sure thing."

"How did Dad sound?" Claire fidgeted, readjusting her position.

"Worried, but good. Him and Cillia are getting the next plane down in the morning."

"Oh god, I don't want him to worry, I-"

"You'd do the same." Grace said.

"I know it's just Dad's got work and-"

"He doesn't care about that Claire." The younger woman sighed and Grace put her arm around her.

"How's Ben?" Claire asked.

"He's good." Grace smiled and touched her wedding ring subconsciously. "You remember after Mum died?"

"Hmm?"

"All that driving?"

"Yeah?"

Grace said nothing for a moment, a far away look settled in her eyes, as if she was dreaming. "Can you bare another injection?" Claire looked at her, confused. "It will help you sleep."

Claire chuckled. "Sure, why not?" Grace pulled a needle out of her pocket and uncapped it.

"Sleep well." There was a small sting of pressure, Claire winced.

"Goodnight." Grace kissed her on the forehead like she used to when Claire was little. After their mother died, Grace at seventeen had become a surrogate parent to her younger sister.

"I'll stay until you nod off."

"Thanks." Claire muttered, the drugs beginning to take effect.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite." Claire grinned, here eyes closing. _Bed bugs…_

**Six weeks previously. **

"-bed bugs."

"I'm sorry?" Claire blushed a little, embarrassed that she hadn't been paying full attention and looked away from the clock on the far wall.

"I didn't say anything." Doctor Crane cocked his head to the side and smiled politely.

**She's eating out the palm of our hand.**

_Of course she is._

Claire shook her head slightly before checking her notebook. "Your doctors would like you to try a new psychotic medicine."

**Are they too afraid to ask us face to face?**

_I hope so._

Scarecrow laughed.

"Tell them that's fine." He sighed.

**Lay it on thick.**

_I intend to._

"Though I doubt it will have much effect." He had exposed himself to so many chemicals over the years, most accidental, plus experiencing a dose of his own medicine when 'The Bat Man' forced him to inhale his own toxin, that no psychotic medicine he had come across ever reacted as it was meant to. And Scarecrow never left him.

Claire nodded and scribbled a sentence into her notebook.

"Do you want it to?" She glanced up at him.

"No." Claire's face tensed in slight confusion, Crane already knew what she was going to ask but let her get there herself anyway.

**You do pick the dense ones Johnny. **

"Why?"

"I used to be a psychiatrist, to fix my shattered psyche both personalities have to blend back into one. I don't want his violence… his nefarious qualities. I don't want to be one."

**Someone give him an Oscar.**

Jonathan smiled inwardly.

"He's like, 'You Humble Narrator, the droog Alex', without the love of Beethoven." He watched Claire's bank expression.

**Seriously Johnny, a dead cat has more brains. **

" 'A Clockwork Orange' by Anthony Burgess?" He said.

"Oh," Claire's face lit up with realization. "I'm sorry, I haven't read it. I've only seen the film."

Doctor Crane smirked. "No matter, I haven't seen the film. I'll have to watch it and you'll have to read it."

Claire smiled. "That sounds good." She pushed her hair behind her ear; her cheeks had just a hint of crimson to them.

**You think she bought it?**

_Of course. Poor naïve girl didn't stand a chance. She thinks I'm broken and charming and so damaged that only she can fix me… I'll bleed her dry._

Scarecrow cackled. **And she thinks I'm the violent one.**

Inwardly Crane smiled a nightmare smile.

Claire woke to the sound of loud talking. She opened her eyes but quickly screwed them up tight at the bright sunshine coming in through the windows, the back of her eyes burned like the onset of a migraine.

She swore quietly and rubbed her face before trying to look at the room again. It all seemed too vivid, too harsh like someone had turned up the resolution.

"I'm sorry but this is outside visiting hours and-"

"I know that but-" Claire recognized Andrea's voice.

"No buts, Doctor Roberts insisted that-"

"It's fine," Claire called, loud enough to be heard and sat up in bed. "Let them come in." She rubbed her eyes again and slowly opened them.

Andrea, Commissioner Gordon and a slightly pissed off nurse walked into the room. Claire suddenly felt very self-conscious that she had just woken up and ran a hand through her hair. She was surprised that the nurse had said no to the Commissioner.

The lights were still too bright, but bearable.

"Miss Lamont," the nurse began. "Doctor Roberts gave specific instructions that-"

"Tell Grace I'm fine. Besides I'm not in intensive care or asleep so the police can see me at any time. The nurse looked vaguely annoyed but nodded and walked out of the room. Claire felt a pang of guilt.

She's just going her job.

"How are you feeling?" Andrea asked, pulling two chairs over to the side of the bed.

"Good." She lied and glanced at Gordon, fidgeting nervously with her hands. If he had come all the way to see her something must be up.

"Good. So far we haven't found anything on the needle, no toxins, no bacteria… not to say that we won't but…" Andrea trailed off and shrugged. "It seems as though you could be in the clear."

Claire looked relieved and tried not to think about the 'could be' too much.

"We also got the results on Sam Crinton…" Andrea trailed off again and looked at Gordon.

"He was poisoned." The Commissioner said. "You were right."

Claire balled her hands into fists, her nails digging into the fleshy parts of her palms. She swallowed but the salvia stuck in her throat. "What with?"

"A chemical compound similar to the type Crane produced." Claire breathed heavily, trying to fight the urge to vomit. "Though this one had a concentrated dosage. Whoever administered it to Crinton had to be very close to him. It seems that he had a preexisting heart condition, the toxin pushed it over the edge and caused cardiac arrest, which caused the car crash. The poison was slow acting and could have been on his system for hours before he died." Gordon paused. "I wanted to let you know in person."

Claire nodded, trying to keep her focus as both police officers watched her. She hoped it was out of concern for her welfare and not her sanity.

"What time is it?" Claire asked.

"Half ten." Lawson replied, checking her watch.

"I've got a meeting with Doctor Crane at twelve."

A look of pure disgust crossed Andrea's face. "You can't really be thinking of going to it?!"

"I can handle Crane." She hoped that she at least sounded confident to them.

Hubris will get you killed.

"Besides yesterday he almost admitted to being involved in Simon Crinton's car crash." Claire glanced at Gordon, knowing she was admitting to not following his advice but he said nothing and just raised his eyebrows slightly.

"I'll have to admit, I'm a little uneasy about you keeping the meeting…" Gordon said, Claire wallowed uneasily. "But if you're sure."

"I am." He studied her for a moment showing an expression she just couldn't place.

"Alright, I'll call Quinzel and tell her everything is a go."

"Thank you." Claire breathed deeply and tried to settle the knot tightening in her stomach.

"We'll let you get ready." Gordon stood Lawson following suit her face like thunder. "McKenzie and Lawson will escort you." He said, the implication clear that he didn't trust the staff at Arkham.

They walked to the door, Gordon turning at the last minute. "Can't wait 'til your full time Lamont, you can talk with Arkham instead of me."

Claire grinned. "Sure thing."

Grace had left her clothes on the side table with a note on top. 'Hope these are ok. You really need to do laundry. G x.' Claire smiled and looked through the garments. She shook her head slightly when she saw that Grace had chosen the only bra and underwear Claire owned that matched. They were teal with black lace and didn't have cartoon animals on them, like all of her other undergarments. Claire grinned and shook her head again.

She had a shower in the en-suite, which was nearly as big as the bedroom in her flat before getting dressed in smart black trousers and a soft grey-blue top.

The light was still too bright, but there was no sickening pain to imply a migraine. She sighed and rebound her arm with a fair sized piece of melolin and medical tape that Grace had left for her by her clothes. The small wound was healing well and only twinged slightly when she straightened her arm. Her left hand's knuckles were a little stiff from where she had punched her attacker. She flexed it twice but paid it no more attention.

The drive to Arkham was a quiet one, Andrea was still giving Claire the silent treatment and McKenzie never spoke much. Claire didn't mind she was content to stare out of the window at Gotham as it flew past.

It was only when they entered the grounds that the nerves really kicked in. Claire bit the skin around her thumb furiously as they walking into the asylum. Doctor Quinzel was waiting for them.

_This can't be good._

"Good morning Doctor Quinzel."

"Good morning Claire." She was a little taken a back that the psychiatrist has used her first name. "I'm so sorry about the incident yesterday and I assure you that I have made sure that nothing like it will happen again." It was quite clear than Doctor Quinzel was choosing to simply ignore the two police officers. "I've doubled the security today." The small group began to walk to the main door, Quinzel gave a sharp look to the receptionist who opened the door quickly. "I really commend your dedication by coming in today."

"It's fine." Claire pushed her hair behind her ear, blushing slightly.

Quinzel gave her a small smiled.

Four guards were waiting for them on the other side of the door, two Claire didn't know, the others were Johnson and Brent.

"Hi Claire, I heard about what happened yesterday, are you alright?" Brent gushed.

"I'm good, thanks."

"Good." Brent let out a breath her didn't know he'd been holding before looking at Doctor Quinzel's stern expression.

The eight of them walked down the corridor in silence, Quinzel's look of disgust hushing the group.

Claire glanced at the doctor as they walked, frowning slightly. She had her blonde hair pulled into a precise bun and there seemed to be a spot of white just behind her left ear. _Make up? _Claire's frown deepened. _Face paint? Like a clo-_ Doctor Quinzel glanced at her, sensing that someone was looking. Claire looked away quickly, embarrassed.

"You'll be in a higher security room," Quinzel said. "It's closer too."

"That doesn't sound saver." Andrea interrupted; the doctor stared at her. "Less doors." Quinzel smiled at the police officer, her eyes darkly sinister and said nothing.

Brent and another guard entered their passcodes outside the interview room. The door buzzed and Claire walked through.

"Hiya Claire." She swallowed as the door clicked shut behind her.

"Hello Scarecrow." He grinned at her, his smile the most menacing thing she had ever seen, his hands under the table.

"How ya doin'?" He said, mocking her. He stared at the small white bandage around her arm, his smile widening.

She wished she had a longer top of a jacket to hide it.

Claire breathed in deeply, trying to calm her nerves. "I need to talk to Doctor Crane, Scarecrow."

"It's not me you've got to convince _honey_." He said distastefully, Claire sat down opposite him.

"Doctor Crane?" Scarecrow watched her. She swallowed. "Jonathan?"

His jaw clenched, his face changed subtly, becoming Crane. He sat up straighter in his chair, his hands still under the table.

"How nice to see you Miss Lamont." He smirked. "Where's your little recorder today?" He ridiculed. Claire said nothing, trying to compose her words. "At least it was a clean needle."

She froze her hand lingering on her bandage.

**I think her heads gonna explode Johnny. **

"You…"

"I heard you broke his nose," he said matter of factly. "That's quite an accomplishment."

"I…I…"

"That is what you planned to ask, isn't it?" He looked at her like she was an insolent child. "You wanted to know id I had anything to do with it."

There was a pause.

"Why?" She finally managed to stammer out. Crane smiled.

**Look how she squirms Johnny.**

"You see, Miss Lamont," he leaned forward in his seat. "Out of the hundreds of thousands of billions of equally genetically boring people, approximately three in every million have a naturally occurring Ketrmin deficiency, just like your Mother."

His eyes seemed to shimmer in a warped excitement, almost giving off their own light. "This condition is sometimes passed on to their offspring, about a one in a two hundred and ten chance."

Claire's mind raced, trying to figure out Crane's end game.

"However, occasionally something far more _interesting_ occurs. The unborn fetus, sharing its parent's deficiency 'adapts'. Through a miracle of genetic lottery it nucleic acids order to produce Blauium."

Claire fidgeted slightly; there was something about Crane's tone that was deeply unnerving. He was too calm, too prepared with that tiny smirk inclining his lips. His piercing eyes never left her.

"A chemical that behaves like Ketermin the way that it regulates the bodies liver function." Claire frowned in confusion.

"And, perhaps most interestingly, Blauium's chemical structure is almost identical to a certain blue flower that only grows in selective parts of Asia."

"I don't understand.' Claire said, her skin tingling like she had walked through cobwebs. Doctor Crane gave her a pitying smirk.

"I'll make it simple for you, Miss Lamont," he leaned forward in his seat, his face dark. "The only physical symptom of Blauium is dark blue irises, much like _yours_. It seems the chemical dyes it."

Claire's mouth opened and closed slightly.

It'll take her all day Johnny.

"And while I-"

**We.**

"Was quite sure that you were a carrier after you told me-"

**Us.**

"That your Mother had a Ketermin deficiency, I always prefer to safe than sorry." He paused, observing her reaction. Claire swallowed.

"Which," Jonathan continued. "Was why you were injected with a mixture of saline, adrenaline and a few base chemicals. It is completely harmless, but may have effected your mental processing for six hours or so, a slightly haziness."

"If it was completely harmless, why do it?" Crane smiled not his usual smirk but a full-blown leer. It made Claire want to run and hide and scream.

**Look at her tremble Johnny. **

"Look up." She glanced upwards automatically before she could stop herself. There was a dark brown coloured stain on the ceiling that looked like a sunflower.

"There." Crane breathed out, pleased. Claire's attention snapped back to the doctor.

"The base chemicals bind to the Blauium," he explained. "And as your body flushes them out of your system it leaves a residue, a slightly shimmer of purple in the irises." Claire could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as the fight or flight urge began to take over. "You may also be experiencing sensitivity to light." He said, matter of faculty, sounding like an advert of an off brand medication.

"I don't understand," Claire balled her hands into fists. "What does it matter if I'm related to a plant?"

**She's not getting it Johnny**.

Crane scoffed and decided not to bother to explain it to the young woman again. "Why do you think I made our last session run over? Why wouldn't Johnson let you out of the secure wing?" Claire froze. "Why did Brent delay you?"

The room began to spin and her stomach began to churn, bitter bile burned her throat. She glanced briefly at the panic button underneath the table.

**You need to push her harder Johnny.**

"Brent?" She managed to stammer.

**At least she's getting it now. **

"You've become oddly comfortable here." He frowned slightly as id confused. His tone, that of a caring doctor, mocked her.

"I, I…" The hairs on the back of Claire's neck stood upright, she could feel her breathing becoming unsteady. Crane was too calm, too composed, too in control.

"You used to be so paranoid." Slowly, ever so slowly, he placed his hands on the table. They were unbound, no silver metal binding his wrists. Claire's' eyes widened, all her muscles tensing at once.

**Like a lamb ready for the slaughter. **

Crane smiled.

_Isn't she just?_

The moment dragged out, Claire's eyes stinging before she refused to blink.

Crane smirked and couldn't resist jutting his hands forward half and inch. It was the push she needed. Claire let out a silent scream as she smacked the panic button with the palm of her hand.

There was a buzz, a comforting click as the door opened. Jonathan couldn't help but chuckle at Claire's terrified face.

She slowly turned her head to look at the door; there was no one there. No guards, nothing. She heard a distant buzz and clicks before turning back to Crane.

"You wouldn't think it would be so easy to rewriter an alarm to the door override mechanism for this floor." Claire swallowed; Jonathan watched her, his eyes dark like a vulture, drinking in her fear.

He moved quicker than Claire could see, one moment perfectly still, the next lunging at her, his fingernails gracing her cheek.

She pushed her self backwards, using the table, away from his venomous claws. Her breath caught in her throat, her legs weak. She tried to stand and run but her feet caught around the legs of the chair, bringing her crashing to the hard ground. Her left wrist bore the brunt of it, a shooting pain shot up her limb.

Jonathan walked slowly over to her, savoring the situation, almost tasting the panic on his tongue. It was a lighting purple and nightmare yellow with the after taste of lemons.

Claire scrambled up, her shoes slipping on the floor in her rush but he was already blocking her exit.

Her heart hammered in her chest like it was ready to explode, each beat radiating through her whole body, vibrating in her fingers.

**Just like a rabbit in a snare Johnny. **

Her eyes darted from his face to the door, her mind trying to process why no one was coming.

Jonathan moved slowly towards her when Claire lashed out, like a concealed viper, with her left fist.

He caught hold of her he left wrist easily, as she moved out of the way of the blow, and twisted in one fluid motion. Claire shrieked as the bruised flesh sent electric shock of pain into her mind. He grinned twisted further, his fingers tightening, unmovable as metal. Claire heard something snap before she felt it. Black and purple spots formed in front of her vision as the agony attacked her consciousness and churned her stomach.

**Show time.**

She barely had time to look up and realize that Scarecrow now stood before her. He raised his hand and sprayed her in the face.

The mist hit the back of her throat before she could react. The taste was bitter. She coughed and fell to the floor, her body convulsing. Scarecrow leaned over her, his breath hot on her face.

"Now Claire," he traced her jaw line with his index finger. "I just _know_ how much you'll appreciate how _hard_ it is to get the right chemicals for my toxin in a place like this." He grinned, his eyes wild.

Claire fought to keep her eyes open as breathing became harder and harder.

"Let alone mix it, safe to say, this batch has been untested. So," he leaned close, his lips just touching her ear as he whispered. "Try not to die."

The last thing she saw was his cyan, gleaming eyes and nightmare smiled. Her own screaming raging silently in her head as her eyes began to close and the darkness began to leak in.


	7. What happened as I let it slip?

What happened as I let it slip?

Author's comments: Thank you to everyone who has faved, followed and reviewed!

**It means so much to me.**

**KnoKnayme, Blueberrytoast and Unquestionably Unhinged thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter, I hope you enjoy this one too :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

The first thing she noticed was the pain in her chest. It throbbed like she had been burnt from the inside. Her head joined in soon after, thumping like she had a bad hangover.

Claire breathed in deeply, trying to imagine her bedroom in perfect detail before opening her eyes, an alien ceiling greeted her.

The room was dark with three plain plastered walls, there was no fourth wall, instead wrought iron bars, like a prison cell. The bars separated the room from a hallway were a solitary bulb glowed, giving the only source of light. She could just make out a lock on a section of the bars, she assumed it was a door. _Don't panic_. She breathed. _Think about this logically. _

Claire sat up on the basic cot she was lying on. A dark grey itchy blanket covered her legs, she kicked it away in disgust.

She glanced around the small room; there was a toilet and basin with a small dirty mirror above it. She tried to dismiss the aversion to not having a bathroom door, at least she had a toilet.

She got up gingerly and walked the two steps to the basin before trying to pull the mirror off the wall. It stuck fast.

"So much for that idea…" She muttered. There was a clunk of metal against the sink. Claire glanced down, only just realizing that a chain bound her left hand. She yanked at it but regretted the action instantly. White-hot fire shot up her wrist, the pain sickening her stomach.

She grabbed on to the basin to steady herself for a moment before inspecting her wrist. She moved closer to the light to get a better look. There was a ring of dark purple bruises, like a bracelet. She swallowed as she traced them with her thumb, shuddering as she remembered Crane's fingers. His iron grip.

She glanced to the hallway to make sure there were no signs of life before trying to pull the chain off. She knew it was a long shot and gave up after a few seconds, the pain in her wrist throbbed in her mind.

She rubbed her chest trying to ease the burning sensation. She half expected smoke to come out of her mouth.

Claire paced back and forth for a few moments before trying to see how close she could get to the bars. She strained her fingers out stretched but she could only manage to get within a few inches of them. She could imagine Crane smirking at her, having measured the restraint so she could never reach the bars. She sighed and traced the chain back to its fastening in the wall.

Claire inspected were the wall and chain met before grabbing handfuls of the restraint and pulling as hard as she could. She pulled until she could feel the metal cutting into her hand but it was no use. It didn't even budge.

She collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily, her mouth dry, when she noticed the large, thick plastic bottle at the foot of the cot. She shuffled over to it, the ache in her wrist forgotten. There was a white paper not stuck to it.

'Drink this-' the spidery handwriting said. Claire stared at it for a moment before turning the note over. 'It's not poisoned.' A much neater handwriting said. Claire clenched her jaw, rage filling her blood vessels as she stared at the note. He was in her head.

She gave a banshee yell, smacking the wall with her right hand before kicking the bottle as violently as she could.

It thudded across the room, hitting the wall before casually rolling back to her.

She stared at it for a long time, hours perhaps, but more likely minutes. She was sure that if Crane wanted to kill her he would have done it already and if all he wanted was to see her suffer then to poison the drink and write that it wasn't just was not his style.

She crawled over to the bottle, feeling the weight of it in her hands. _Not heavy enough to knock someone out. _Before she undid the cap and took a mouthful, she swirled the liquid around in her mouth, savoring the coolness of it. If he had put something in the water it was tasteless. She swallowed.

Claire crawled back to the cot, placing the bottle on the floor beside her.

She lay on the make shift bed for a few minutes before turning onto her stomach to bury her face into the pillow. She cried as quietly as she could, trying her best not to move. It would be just her luck if Crane had put a camera in the room and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Present day

Daniels led Claire carefully down the corridor, his hand on her shoulder, guiding her as if she was blind. Paul squinted at her, maybe she was with those glasses on.

Her head turned towards him slightly and Paul's cheeks flushed a dark crimson, embarrassed that she had caught him staring. She gave him a small, yet warm smile before looking away,

"How are you feeling?" Daniels asked.

"Fine." Claire said. Daniels looked at her carefully; he could feel how tense she was, how tired. "How are you?"

"Oh, same old, same old." There was a pause. "What book are you on now?"

"Lolita." Daniels nodded. "It's… sweet."

"I wouldn't call it that."

Claire laughed, the sound like falling water. "No, I don't suppose you would."

There was a pause as they walked through a security door.

Two guards were waiting outside of a patient room. Daniels steered his small party over to them.

The two new comers nodded at Claire before entering their passcodes, Paul watched confused.

"There are only two patient rooms in Arkham that need extra codes," Daniels explained. "One belongs to the Joker," he glanced at Claire. "The other to Jonathan Crane." Daniels let go of Claire's shoulder and entered his code. The door buzzed but didn't open. "Do you have the restraints?" Daniels asked the two guards; they nodded and held up a box much like the one Daniels had taken Claire's glasses out of. "Good. Rogers," Paul looked up. "Stay hear with Miss Lamont, we won't be a moment."

The three men entered the cell and Paul looked at Claire nervously.

"You can ask me." She said.

"What?" He stammered before coughing, trying to clear his throat.

"I know you've been wanting to ask me a question." She smiled, but Paul saw a sorrow behind the mask. It was a deep dread, a bitter defeat.

"Do you know what the question is? Can you sense it?"

Claire laughed. "No, I'm afraid it's nothing paranormal, I can just tell by your face." Paul smiled sheepishly at her.

"I just, well I always wondered, did you really do it? Did you really survive it because he was afraid you would?"

Claire swallowed and for a moment Paul thought that she didn't understand. "Is that what they say?"

"Yes."

The door opened, Daniels and the two guards stepped out.

"He's ready Miss Lamont."

Claire nodded and walked towards the door.

She stopped suddenly and turned to Paul.

"They weren't afraid I'd survive," she paused. "I was." She turned and walked into the cell.


	8. I was confused by the powers that be

I was confused by the powers that be.

**Thank you to everyone who is following this story, especially to KnoKnayme, your comments make my day.**

**This chapter is a bit more violent than previous chapters. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

Time no longer seemed to correspond to reality. It was strange how out of sync someone could become without a clock. Claire supposed that because there were no windows and that the light in the hallway was always on couldn't help.

There was nothing to do in the cell, less than nothing, and Claire had taken to sleeping as long as possible.

She supposed she could almost be grateful, usually she only got a few hours sleep here and there. She liked to pretend that she was catching up on lost time.

Though the excess of sleep and lack of exercise had caused her to drift in and out of a half sleep, an almost hypnotic state. So many times had she woken believing she was in her bedroom as a child, with the plain blue pastel wallpaper, the white rocking chair by the window. It all seemed so real.

Claire assumed that she hadn't been in the cell for that long, a few days at most. A plate of food and a bottle of water were pushed just far enough in for her to reach every so often. She made the guess that she was fed three times a day, but it could just have as easily been once every three days for all she knew. Claire never saw or heard anyone, the place silent as a graveyard. She didn't each much either; her appetite was nearly dead.

Her wrist still throbbed but she had begun to find the sensation oddly comforting.

Someone would come to help her soon. Someone had to.

As if on que, she heard a click, the movement of metal then soft footsteps. Claire fought to keep her breathing steady. She was lying on the cot with her back facing the door; it was easier to sleep with less light, so whoever had entered had not realized she was awake.

The footfalls approached her cautiously, she could feel eyes on her back. Slowly, ever so slowly, she gathered the metal chain that bound her to the wall in her hands and waited. She held her breath until she was almost sure the intruder was close enough.

She jumped to her feet with a speed that she didn't know she possessed. She saw Jonathan's piercing blue eyes cut with surprise before she registered who they belonged to and flung the chain around his neck, pulling as tight as she could.

He let out a gasp, his fingers clawing at the metal chain. Claire felt a pang of guilt but pushed it quickly out of her mind. She had to get out. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she tightened her grip.

Jonathan's jaw clenched, rage overcoming his half-betrayed look as he grabbed hold of Claire's wrist. His long fingers wrapped around the already injured flesh and squeezed. A bone crushing agony leapt up her arm and black spots danced in front of her eyes, for a moment she held her grip, but the pain became too much in less than a second.

Jonathan twisted her wrist before pulling violently. The sheer force of the movement made Claire loose her grasp on the chain altogether and send her crashing to the floor. The chain, still around Crane's neck, caused him to over balance and fall with her.

His full force landed on her left shoulder. Claire's mind turned purple with pain as all the air was hammered out of her lings. It took her a moment to realize that Crane's weight was already off her.

She jumped to her feet as quickly as she could to see Scarecrow pulling the chain from his neck, the metal leaving angry scarlet marks. She couldn't help by notice how the crimson flush to his face made his eyes look so much brighter, as if she was staring at the sun.

"Well," he snarled. "That was a fucking nice hello Claire."

Fear bubbled to her skin, goosebumps rising on her flesh. "I-"

With a flick of his wrist her feed the chain from around his neck and yanked it with his full force. Claire screamed in pain, nearly passing out from the explosion of agony in her wrist, as she fell forward on to her knees.

"Now there's a good girl." He spat as if he was scolding a dog.

Claire looked up just in time to see his fit before it collided with her nose. There was a teeth-pulling snap of cartilage before she felt her flesh give way. Blood, hot and thick, gushed out of her nose. The pain from her wrist was nothing compared to this, her face felt as if it had been pushed out of alignment, twisted round the wrong way. She blinked hard only just realizing that the blow had knocked her to the floor. She scrambled to get up, trying to put pressure on her nose, her hand slipping in the blood that had already fallen to the floor.

"Now, now." Scarecrow threw the chain over her neck, giving her a second to realize what was happening before pulling tight. She tried desperately to grab hold of the metal before it cut off her air supply. Scarecrow grinned and pulled her backwards by the chain. She coughed and spluttered falling over her own feet until her back collided with the metal bars of the cot. Scarecrow grabbed a handful of her hair, still pulling the chain tight, and threw her on to it.

Claire struggled for breath. Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her head. Blood ran down her face and neck, staining her top.

Scarecrow jumped on top of her, crushing her body with his weight. He pulled at the chain, enjoying the fear in his victim's eyes. He yanked the metal tight, causing her left arm to become awkwardly wrapped around her neck, her bound hand unmovable and useless.

He grabbed hold of her right hand despite her struggling and wrapped the chain around it before twisting the restraint around the metal bars of the cot and pulling. Hard.

Claire's back arched and a small-strangled cry escaped her lips. She flailed under him desperately, but she was no where near strong enough to dislodge his weight.

The world began to waver, to almost shimmer as unconsciousness beckoned. Her face was white, her lips pale.

He relaxed his grip the moment he thought she was going to pass out. And while he didn't let go, he gave her enough space to breath.

She coughed violently, her vocal cords shredded as she breathed in rapid gulps. Scarecrow looked at her in disgust.

Her breathing returned to something that resembled normal and the black spots in her vision resided. She struggled to move her hands but they were still bound fast by metal. She tried not to choke as the blood from her broken nose ran down the back of her throat.

"S-Scarecrow," she spluttered.

"Hiya Claire," his breath hot and heavy on her cheek.

"Please I-"

"Please what?! Please don't kill you?" She tried bitterly to fight back the tears that were threatening to shake her body.

She struggled underneath him, worming her body back and forth, trying to shift his weight.

He watched her for a moment before sneering. "Oh yeah. Keep doing that."

She froze, her eyes snapping to his. The implied innuendo caused her to blush, bringing colour to her pale face. Her cheeks standing out like someone had slapped her.

He smirked at her as terror bled through her eyes.

"Please, Scarecrow, please, I-"

"Please?" He spat, grabbing hold of her jaw with his right hand, his left still gripping the chain. "Please what?" He slid his hand down her neck and over her chest. Claire stiffened, screwing up her eyes.

"Please don't-"

"Don't what?" He slowly hissed, running his hand further down her body.

"Please Scarecrow," her eyes were wide, shinning with tears. "Please don't."

He sneered as he slowly slid his hand between her legs. Claire let out a whimper, squeezing her eyes shut once more, snail trails of tears leaking out of the corners.

"Oh Claire," he rubbed her crotch with his thumb. "I never thought you'd be frigid. Especially after the way I've seen you lust after Johnny."

"Please," she whispered, her voice choked by blood and tears. "Please don't let him Jonathan."

Scarecrow slapped her hard across the face. The red-hot pain vibrating in her teeth.

"You don't get to choose who you're talking to." He snarled. Pure anger in his eyes, his face twisted.

Claire let out a small sob, her body shaking with silent tears. Scarecrow watched her, his eyes scanning her face, listening to an unheard voice.

He suddenly cocked his head to the side and let out a dark laugh.

"Going to be wearing white on our wedding day are we Claire?"

She blushed deeply and turned her head way from him. This time he didn't grab her jaw.

He let out a breath of a laugh, knowing he was right.

He got off her slowly and walked out without a word.

Claire sat up, slowly untangling her self and trying desperately to silence the voice in her head saying that she had bought it all on herself.


End file.
